


taste just like you always do

by harrapunzel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Break Up, Cheating, Cheating Louis, Drugs, M/M, very small mention of drugs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:36:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8369059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrapunzel/pseuds/harrapunzel
Summary: Harry knows it in the way Louis never makes it home on time.Harry knows it in the way Louis can’t seem to look him in the eye for more than a few seconds.Harry even knows it in the way Louis can never seem to feed their fucking cat anymore. Harry knows that Louis is cheating on him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this in my notes for a long time and i didn't know how to move further with it but i also didn't want to scrap it so
> 
> [rrystyls](http://rrystyls.tumblr.com) on tumblr

Harry knows it in the way Louis never makes it home on time.

Harry knows it in the way Louis can’t seem to look him in the eye for more than a few seconds.

Harry even knows it in the way Louis can never seem to feed their fucking cat anymore.

Harry knows that Louis is cheating on him.

Louis’ mind is always elsewhere, everywhere but on him. Louis is stuck on the drama of university, the gossip, the “I wonder if I can get blow for cheap if I wear that shirt that shows off my collarbones”.

Harry doesn’t want any part of Louis anymore. Harry wants to crawl on his hands and knees back to a time before he saw Louis and let him in, before he let Louis find a home in his rib cage. He wants to go back to before his younger self kept Gemma up for hours, telling her how fit the footie captain was, and how maybe high school wouldn’t be so bad if he got to see Louis Tomlinson every day. He wants to go back and believe her when she says Louis Tomlinson is a fucking tosser and never even think about it again.

That’s not how it happened though, Harry thinks, as he sifts through the shoebox of items he’s held dear throughout the years. Dried-up petals from the rose Louis brought him on their first date. Louis’ footie pin he wore on his backpack so everyone knew he was Louis’ and Louis was Harry’s and no one dared think otherwise.

Harry’s fingertips brush delicately over a stack of photobooth strips of them from Louis’ senior prom. They’d won prom kings but they were both too drunk off each other and the bottle of Jäger Louis snuck out of his mum’s liquor cabinet to really even care. Harry blew Louis in the booth while Louis whispered words of praise to him. They were in love. Harry rips the strips one by one and doesn’t shed a single tear. He won’t.

Not now.

Now, Louis was out, hours after his last class of the day was over. Harry wonders if he even tries to hide it. Harry wonders if Louis thinks he is stupid.

Harry doesn’t sleep in their bed anymore. He falls asleep on the floor or the couch or even the bathtub no matter how badly his back aches in protest.

He picks up the pink index card Louis had slipped into his locker before they’d actually even started dating.

_Hi, curly. Don’t tell Gemma everyone thinks you’re the cutest Styles. - xx Tommo_

Harry crumples up the thick card slightly worn from years of nostalgic eyes and fingers. Harry will not cry.

Harry Styles never had a chance when it came to Louis Tomlinson. Louis was older. Prettier. Cooler. Louis could drive and he would pick Harry up in the mornings before school, not without receiving a roll of the eyes from Gemma.

Louis dipped Gemma’s braids in paste in the second grade and she never really let it go.

Harry stands up from where he sits in the middle of their bedroom floor and tips the box over with the toe of his boot. He stomps on it once, the cardboard smashing underneath Harry’s foot. He pretends it’s Louis’ head or maybe his cock.

Harry Styles wasted six years of his life on Louis Tomlinson.

Gemma and Niall are downstairs waiting for Harry to shove his final suitcase into the back seat of Niall’s car.

So what if Harry tosses Louis’ prized footie trophy at the hall mirror on his way out. So what if Harry is satisfied at the way the little golden head snaps off as shards of glass fall onto the carpet. So what if the way the glass crunches underneath Harry’s boots makes it all a little easier. So fucking what.

Harry’s reaching for the doorknob when the front door swings open and he’s faced with Louis Tomlinson himself, cheeks red and mouth stretched in a grin, breathing heavy as if he’d just ran up the stairs. It was a race, judging by the way the boy without a name slams into Louis’ back, his arms looping around Louis’ slender waist in a way that only suggests he’s done it before. Harry guesses Louis won. He wonders if the prize is worth the trouble.

Louis is pushing the other boy’s hands off of him and his grin is sliding off of his face, his features curling in confusion. He glances between Harry’s face and Harry’s suitcase. Harry tightens his grip on the handle until his knuckles are white and takes a deep breath.

"You said you'd be at the library." Louis is shaking his head.

Harry wants Louis to move before he moves him.

“Move,” Harry says.

“Where,” Louis glances back to the boy who seems to be catching on then he looks up to Harry once more, “where are you going?”

“I’m leaving. _Move_.”

When Louis doesn’t move, Harry moves him, pushes him rather harshly to the side, and tugs his suitcase after him as he starts down the stairs.

The nameless boy watches on in silence and Louis calls after Harry but he doesn’t chase him. Louis has never chased Harry.

x

Later that night, when he’s smashed pathetically between his older sister and her fiancé in bed in a way that they thought would be comforting, he cries. He cries until he has a fucking headache and when he isn’t able to silence his sobs anymore, he climbs out of bed, careful not to roll over Niall’s knee, and makes his way into the bathroom.

Harry drops into the bathtub, pulling the curtain shut after him, and draws his knees up, making himself as small as possible.

Harry Styles cries over the way Louis Tomlinson is everything he knows. He cries about how Louis was the first person to give him a real kiss, the first person to dance with him, the first person to finger him open and make love to him, the first person he brought home to mum. The only person. There wasn’t ever another option for Harry. He was going to marry Louis.

So Harry falls asleep in his sister’s bath tub that night, tears staining his cheeks, and a terrible feeling in his belly.

Life goes on.

 

 


End file.
